They settled down on the top step of the porch, the cold concrete quickly seeping through their jeans, their knees touching slightly in the confined space.She looked back up at the front door, kept ajar in case Spencer decided to come back down. She remained quiet, waiting for him to share what was on his mind. Michonne figured she probably already knew what he was going to say. She could see unease had crept into the bravado he'd shown at the Hilltop and in front of the Alexandrians. She also knew Spencer challenging him like he did, in front of everyone, had gotten to him. At least a little bit.

She watched him subtly pull away and turn to lean back against the railing, his full attention now directed towards her. She paused for a moment, deciding whether or not she should take the reins and give him more time to collect his thoughts.

"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown," Michonne smirked, shifting closer to him in order to lean over and tap her shoulder against his.

"Yeah, well," Rick began, leaning into her, feeling comfort in their brief contact. "I just wanna make sure we're do the right thing. My decision makin' hasn't exactly been stellar lately."

She chuckled, knowing this was where his mind preferred to wallow. Stuck in a continuous cycle of fearing he would fail those he'd committed to save. She looked at the side of his face, watching as he lowered his head and distractingly played with his hands.

"You think it's a good idea?" Rick asked, lifting his head to look directly into her eyes. "I reckon I'm not so sure any more. It's a risk. We could lose people. Don't know if I can stand havin' that on my shoulders."

"We can always lose people," Michonne replied. "That's just how it is. It's not something you get used to, but it's something you have to expect every time we leave these walls. You know that better than most."

He nodded slowly, wanting her to go on.

"Taking lives isn't something I relish," she continued. "But if it means putting food on the table for Carl and Judith, if it means a better future for them, then the risk is worth it. All of this is worth it."

"But what we have right now," he said, the plea evident in his voice as he waved his arm across their little niche of the world. "All of this around us? I can't lose it again, not any of it."

"You won't Rick," Michonne stated, dropping her hand to his knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I won't lose this either."

He nodded and said, "So that's why I've been thinkin' that Spencer might be right. Maybe you should sit this one out."

"What the hell does that mean?" Michonne demanded, anger flashing in her eyes.

"I just– It just–," he stammered, immediately regretting going down this road with her. "It's just that it's gonna be both of us out there. What if something happens to one of us? What about Carl and Judith?"

She stared at him, the moon turning his bright eyes into midnight blue. She'd had briefly thought the same, but pushed the fears down to focus on their mission. To succeed, they would need her. She couldn't let them down.

"I know what you're saying," she said, looking up at the star-filled sky. "But we're stronger together. We get this done together. We come home together."

An early autumn chill blanketed the air around them, causing each word to turn into small plumes of smoke.

"It'll be a fight," he said, taking in how the moonlight had become her backlight and made her skin luminescent.

"Yeah," Michonne replied, turning to look at him. "But we'll beat them right?"

She looked up and exhaled deeply, basking in wonderment of the shapes created by the star-strewn sky. It looked exactly as the sky did before their world changed, confirming her perspective that getting back some of that beauty once again might still be possible.

"We'll beat 'em," he agreed.

"You good to head on home?" she finally asked, breaking the silence and rising from her seat.

He looked up at her and murmured, "in a minute."

She peered down at him, not sure there was anything else to say. Either way, she knew they'd find a way forward. So, she simply gave him a small smile and walked into her home, shutting the door tightly behind her.

Rick leaned back onto his elbows, looking up as drifting clouds left eerie shadows against the backdrop of the full moon. It was on nights like this when Rick most reminisced about their time out on the road. About the many late nights he and Michonne had spent huddled together, breaking down barriers to distill the very essence of themselves to the other. Sharing the trajectory of their lives before, plotting their next steps, wondering how they'd keep Carl and Judith safe until they found a permanent home. He had secretly thought about what finding a home with Michonne would be like, but kept it to himself, afraid to hope for much more than food and shelter for his children and the rest of his family.

He waited on the porch, hoping that if he stayed out long enough, Jessie would be asleep by the time he returned home. He chuckled ruefully to himself at how sad this all must have looked from the outside. How sad it seemed to even himself.

The past two days had been a world-wind. The law of averages had tipped in their direction more quickly than he had time to process. He was plagued by worries that his instincts and judgement, which he was grateful had returned to him, weren't as sharp as they needed to be. But, meeting the cagey Jesus had already reaped rewards he was still trying to assess.

It'd been a while since they'd pulled the entire community together on a single objective. Jesus dropping into their lives with promises of more, more of everything, was exactly the type of thing he would have desperately sought her counsel on, welcoming her perspective on the best path forward.

But seeing for himself the closeness of her relationship with Spencer had also taken their toll, making him hesitant to ask for too much of her time. Knowing she was with Spencer in that way was one thing, having to witness it was something else completely. There was no hiding it now and watching them required pushing down the bile spawned by his mistakes and accepting that their current state was actually a gift and something he reflectively cherished.

It had felt like forever since they'd spent any significant time together. He'd missed it. He'd missed her. His recklessness had led him here, but her obvious happiness, while bittersweet, made him happy as well. She was at peace, and he couldn't complain just because it wasn't with him.

The light from the upstairs window went out, jolting him out of his reverie and pitching him into near total darkness, the stars and moon the sole remaining source of illumination. Slowly, he rose from his seat, reaching for the banister to pull himself up. With a contemplative sigh, he made his way down the stairs and finally headed home.


Michonne took the water bottle from Rick's hands and gulped down half of its contents in one go. She was acutely aware of the sweat trickling down her back as she brought her hand up to block her face from the blazing midday sun. Her heart hadn't slowed down since they made their way back through Alexandria's gates. She wasn't certain if it ever would. At least not until they figured out whether or not the raid on the Saviors' outpost had been a win, or rather, another problem they'd inadvertently brought to their own doorsteps.

Rick sat next to her. Silent, but she could feel the rage mixed with uncertainty leaching from his pores. She didn't have to look over to know she was berating himself as they sat, exhausted, waiting to reconcile the events of the day with what they'd hope to accomplish with taking out the outpost.

"I think I fucked up Michonne," Rick mumbled, keeping his head down while nesting his hands behind his head and further flattening his wet curls. "No, I know I fucked up. I lead us down the wrong pa–"

"Stop it Rick," she chided, leaning over to cup his chin and bring his eyes to hers. "There is no 'I'. I was in that room too, planning what we did. So was Glenn, Maggie, Daryl, Carol and the rest. We were all there. If this is a fuck up, then we all fucked up."

"But I wa–," he began.

"No, you don't get to do this," she interrupted, forcing him to continue looking at her. "Not this time. Maybe we got him. If we didn't, we'll figure it out. We always do."

"I don't know," he said, brow furrowed as he tried to attune himself to the optimism in her eyes. "Maggie, we could've lost her. If Carol hadn't, if we… We could've…"

"But we didn't," she proclaimed, dropping her hand from his chin and leaning back to stretch her sore back against the porch steps. "Some of us got a little banged up, but that's it. Not for nothing, everyone made it Rick. Everyone's safe."

"Yeah," he exhaled tiredly, retrieving the water bottle from beside Michonne and taking a long pull, letting the cool refreshment quench his anxious heart. "I just wanted this to be the start of somethin'. I hoped so anyway."

"We all did," she replied softly, absentmindedly taking his hand into hers. "And one way or another, it will be."

"How do you know?" he whispered, wanting to steal a bit of her conviction for himself. "We don't know if we actually got this Negan guy. Mighta' just poked the hornet's nest."

"I don't know for sure," Michonne replied, shaking her weary head as he reached over to stroke her arm. "But neither do you."

"I'm just worried about losin' more than we already have," Rick implored, his eyes frantic as he tried to keep them steadily on her. "What then?"

"Losing is still living," she replied, putting her arm around his shoulders. "Isn't that the point? I don't want to lose anymore either, but I'm willing to sacrifice if it means another chance to win for Carl and Judith. Another chance for all of us."

He nodded, dipping his head low to avoid her penetrating stare. She was right. Nothing mattered if they couldn't make the future brighter for Carl and Judith. Whatever had to happen to secure that, he was up for it.

He looked back up at her, catching the optimistic look on her face. She was with him. And maybe they could make it to the other side, together.


"Do you forgive my dad completely?" Carl asked, leaning forward in his chair and resting his forearms on the dining table. " I know how mad you were at him."

"Yeah, I forgave him," she chuckled, the sound breaking up any residual heavy air circulating through the room. "Your dad and I... it's different. It hasn't been easy, but it's been worth it."

"It's not easy with Enid sometimes too," he confessed. "She gets sad and I don't know what to do except just sit with her."

"Carl," she murmured, raising her hand to caress his cheek. "That's everything. I'm not saying love has to be hard, but to get to the good stuff, you sometimes have to go through some stuff. If you make it to the other side and realize you wouldn't want it any other way, then it's worth it."

She rested her hands over her stomach and continued, "your dad and I didn't exactly get off on the right foot-"

"That's the understatement of the year," Carl retorted, laughing as Michonne slowly rolled her eyes.

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

"Sorry," Carl said, quickly composing himself.

"Anyway, I think there was maybe always a little something there. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but something that drew me to him. I don't know. I just got him, and he got me. Well, technically, you got me first, but let's keep that our little secret."

"Oh, Dad knows I was your favorite first," Carl teased.

"First and always," she replied, leaning over to nudge him with her elbow. "I don't know where I'd be without the three of you though. He adapted to this world. He adjusted his thinking and I knew he would do anything to keep all of safe. I admire that."

"Did you know it was going to be more?" he asked, reaching over to take a sip from her iced tea.

"I think I did at some level, but with everything going on, I wouldn't let myself go there. As long as everyone we loved was healthy and safe, that was good enough for me. That was more than enough for me."

"But when did you know you loved my dad?" Carl asked, thinking back to the time when it was just the three of them, before they reunited with the rest of their family and got Judith back.

"Hmmmm. That's a tough question. Mike was… he saw the person I maybe wished to be. But your dad? He saw the person I am. Mike was my first love, but your dad is my best love."

Carl nodded, wondering if Enid would be both his first and his best. He looked on adoringly at Michonne, thinking about all the things she'd given up, all the things she'd lost to keep him whole, keep him safe. In these moments, the excruciating pain of losing his mom lessens just a bit because he knows he got back in Michonne what he thought he'd lost. He couldn't help wondering if his mom pushed Michonne into their paths just to make sure he wouldn't go long without a mother's love. He liked to think this might be so.

"Do you think she'll like it?" Carl sputtered, examining all they had accomplished that day laid out before him.

She looked at this brave young man. This son who hadn't grow under her heart, but had assuredly sprung from her heart. This beacon of light in a neverendingly dark world.

"She'll love it," she replied softly, keeping at bay the tears she'd felt many times throughout the day, but which now threatened to make themselves known. "Now let's go see what your Dad and Judy-bear are up to with all that fussing out there."

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Michonne pulled him down towards her and landed a kiss on his forehead, delighted in all the special little moments the day had brought them. Her brave young man was growing up and while she was a bit sad knowing he'd one day leave her side to live a life of his own making, her heart couldn't help but overflow with pride.

She thought back to what he'd conveyed that his mom had told him with her dying breath and she too believed it with every fiber of her being. Carl would be the one to win this world and she would clear every obstacle in his path to make it so. Content, she caught his smile as he helped her up from her seat and guided them both through the kitchen and out the backdoor.


An ice-cold shiver ran down her spine, causing her teeth to chatter and her lips to tremble, the thin cloth of her jeans no match for the damp earth on which they knelt. She placed her hands on her thighs, her nails digging into the fabric in an attempt to stop the tremors that raced up and down her arms. Head bowed, Michonne took a sharp, shaky breath, the cooling mist of a late autumn evening turning her exhale into vapor.

They'd made a mistake. She'd been tragically wrong and they were all going to pay. Snapping her eyes shut, she willed the tears creeping through to the edges of her eyelashes to stay at bay. It would do no good now. They needed to figure out how to get out of here alive. All of them. She wanted to lean forward to see Rick, figure out how they were going to play this. But doing so felt like too much of a gamble. Drawing attention wouldn't be prudent.

Her tears slipped their barrier, the silence broken by desperate sobs surrounding her, intermittently penetrated the clearing on which she and the rest of her family knelt. She shifted her weight onto her right knee, the cold and dankness causing that bullet wound from long ago to ache. A sharp pain stilled her for a moment, the pebbles beneath her knees showing no mercy as they broke through her jeans and punctured her skin.

She lifted her head when she noticed the cries had ceased, overtaken by the stillness of the wooded area surrounding them. She scanned as much of the perimeter as she could without turning her head. Michonne's head shot up as the RV's door swung open. Her steady gaze locked onto the leather-clad man standing at the top of the RV's stairs. She watched him tilt back on his heels, surveying the assembled group as a smirk spread across his face.

She studied him, noting the delight he took at the sight before him. His nonchalance stirred her anger. It was all a show. Her eyes cast themselves down his body, taking in the barbed wire-wrapped bat he held loosely in his hands. She worked her way back up to his face, the arrogance lighting a fire in her. The leather jacket, the red scarf, all of it. Theater for a world gone mad.

He walked down the stairs, pausing on the last step to swivel his head back and forth, seemingly taking in the pitiful sight before him. She watched as he tipped his head up and let out a loud guffaw, the hallow echo rattling the leaves in the trees as his feet landed on the hard earth.

He walked towards them with an amplified swagger evident in each leisurely step. The absurdity of his twirling the spiked bat made her furrow her eyebrows. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he walked up and down the line. Her breath hitched as he made his way towards her, lingering directly in front of her. His posturing made her cringe. For a brief moment, their eyes met. She would not cower. She took in his raised eyebrow, then his smug, saccharin smile as he too realized her eyes radiated anger, not fear.

He threw his head back, pointing at her and laughing as he said, "I think I'm in love with this one's spirit. I do believe I am."

A few moments of silence commenced as the man walked back down the line, before staking ground in front of Abraham. Michonne turned slightly to her right, watching Abraham's jaw defiantly twitch, before their antagonist chuckled to himself and took a few steps backwards, seeming to enjoy his own performance before their group.

"So, I hear you guys have been naughty, naughty, naughty," he bellowed, sucking his tongue through his front teeth as he shook his head from side to side. "Not cool. Not cool at all. In fact, if we opened up Webster's Dictionary and looked up 'not cool,' I'm pretty sure what I'm staring at right now would be the illustration."

She tipped her head up, catching him as he once again scanned the group from left to right. They must have looked so filthy and battered to him. Broken, brought to their knees – literally and figuratively – by the superior Saviors. Maybe he'd underestimate them. Maybe they could use that to their advantage.

"Now, every group has gotta have a leader," he began, spinning the bat by its handle. "El Jefe, The Boss. The Chief. Can't survive these days without one. So, who's the leader of this shit show?"

He turned back to his companion and stated, "Simon, don't tell me! I love figuring this shit out myself! Hmmm. Which one of you motherfuckers decided they needed to get their ass handed back to them by the Saviors? Now, I know his name is Rick, so who here could possibly be Rick?"

Michonne inhaled deeply and turned her head to the right as he moved past her and walked towards Glenn, finally planting his feet right in front of him. She watched as he peered down at the young Asian man, noting how Glenn's eyes, while shiny with tears, never looked down.

He slowly walked to his right, winding his bat as he went along. He stopped momentarily to grin down at her once again, before walking to the end of the line, past a defiant Carl, and ending at the whimpering mess that was Eugene. Walking back, her heart stopped as he stopped in front of Rick, resting the bat in the dirt and leaning sideways onto it.

"It's you, isn't it?" he stated. "You must be Rick. Rick the Prick. Well, hello there! I'm glad to make your acquaintance. I'm super keen about making new friends. I'm Negan, by the way. And it's an abso-fucking-lute honor to finally meet you."

He took a few steps back, centering himself in front of the group. He must be wondering how this ragtag bunch of degenerates had gotten the jump on his men, Michonne thought to herself. His men looked battle-hardened and were clearly well-trained. But they'd been able to get a jump on them. His bluster was still on display, but she could almost see a bit of… maybe begrudging respect.

"So tell me Rick," he smirked. "Are you and I gonna be friends? Because I certainly hope so. You're gonna want to hope so too. Cuz, you see, I'm not so kind to people who aren't my friends. What do you say buddy? Wanna be my friend?"

Michonne knew Rick wouldn't engage him, at least not yet. Better to wait and see what this madman would reveal of himself before showing their cards.

"I gotta say, I'm a bit disappointed Rick the Prick," Negan continued. "After doing what you did to my men, I was expecting a much more fucking formidable foe. It's a shitty, shitty feeling to find out you guys aren't that impressive. Hurts my heart even. Makes me wonder if I've actually got the right people handling my shit."

She could sense the air turning more and more ominous. He was getting to the point, but she could tell he'd want them to stew in fear for a while longer. Michonne could practically hear her heart pounding in her ears as she watched Negan look down the line, giving each of them a sinister grin, as if they were disobedient children and he was there to administer their punishment.

"I confess, I thought about just coming out here and ordering my men to crack each and every one of you open like an egg. But what would I do with a mound of spilled yolks? Make omelets, I guess?"

Unblinkingly, Michonne listened to the hushed whimpers rumbling in the cold air of the clearing in the woods.

"Yeah. It's a much better proposition for me to just have you work for me. Keep you occupied doing my bidding. That said, you did kill a fucking boatload of my people. And for that reason alone, you're gonna have to pay. I can't just let that type of shit-stain disrespect be. I mean, what kind of leader would that make me?"

A nervous Michonne looked on as Negan turned his attention back to Rick.

"And to make sure you know I mean business, I'm gonna have to make an example of one of you. Because, you see, Lucille is famished. My girl's hungry! Unfortunately for you, she gets hangry and it's been a mighty long while since she's been able to get a good meal."

Michonne looked on in disgust as he lifted the bat and kissed it, drawing an inadvertently snort from her, which grabbed the psychopath's attention. She watched in horror as Rick, seeing the man make his way back towards her, rose up from his slumped position onto his knees.

"Well sweetheart," he began, crouching down in front of her. "Do you have something you'd like to share with all of us? It kinda seems like you do. And since you're looking at me with the sexiest death glare I've ever seen, I'd like to know what it is. So, what is it pretty lady?"

He reached down and stroked her cheek with his gloved hand.

"Don't you touch her!" Rick and Carl yelled in unison.

Michonne twisted away from his touch, as Negan jumped up and marched over to Carl, tossing a smirk towards a clenched-fisted Rick as he passed in his wake.

"Well fuck me sideway with a chainsaw!" Negan exclaimed, glee evident in his voice. "Simon! Would you look at this? Man! I do believe we've got our very first official sighting of balls! Steels balls to be exact!"

Negan turned back towards who appeared to be his right-hand man, Simon, cackling as he tapped the bat's spikes against his gloved hand.

"You know what Simon? I think I've got it figured out! So you see, Cyclops here? That's Rick's son."

Turning towards Rick, Negan continued, "yeah Rick, that kid's most definitely yours. I can see the familial death glare from way over here."

Michonne's breath hitched as Rick's low, agitated growl reached her ears. She momentarily closed her eyes, praying he wouldn't say a word.

"Now, now, now, don't get all testy," Negan said, pointing the bat in Rick's direction. Cyclops is a compliment! This kid is clearly badass as fuck! Man! You must be one proud Papa!"

Michonne slowly exhaled as Negan continued laughing to himself while miming practice swings with the bat.

"Now darlin'," he whispered, walking back towards her and bending down to reach eye-level. "I must confess, I don't exactly see the family resemblance. But you're out here acting like Mama Bear, so I'm assuming you're the Missus. Am I right?"

Michonne glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a single utterance. Keeping his eyes trained on her, Negan gave her a wink, before shouting over to Rick.

"Rick? Is this lovely lady your Missus? Cuz if she's not, I wouldn't mind making her mine! No disrespect, but she looks awfully comfy on her knees. I bet she's the ride of a lifetime! Damn Ricky, you're a lucky man! Well, at least you were until today."

Michonne looked with pure hatred into his eyes, her gaze never faltering.

"So how about it sweetheart? Will you marry me? Woohoo woman! If looks could kill... Ha! Well, that doesn't really matter now does it?"

He rose up to his feet and pivoted towards Carl.

"Aw kid, it warms my heart to see mom and dad taking you out on all these adventures! As I always say, the family that slays together..."

Michonne's eyes followed Negan as he took one final stroll in front of the group. Her heart stilled as he stopped abruptly, causing the buzz surrounding the group on their knees to suspend for a moment.

"Now, enough with the pleasantries," Negan said, spinning away from Rick to swing the bat at Abraham's head.

Wails shattered the quiet of the woods as Michonne's soul collapsed onto itself and her guttural cries pierced through Rick and Carl like a knife.


A/N: For those still on this journey with me, thank you! I've promised myself to wrap up this story by the end of August, so there you go. Gauntlet dropped. Feel free to come for me if I don't.

As always, thanks for reading!